


I must be dreaming

by Wrathofscribbles



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 14:50:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19336741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrathofscribbles/pseuds/Wrathofscribbles
Summary: In which Cloud has a very close encounter with a demon.





	I must be dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> **Big bold reminder that Final Fantasy VII and all of its content is property of Square Enix. I just like to play in the sandpit they've created.**
> 
> See that additional tag? Yeah. Dinnae take any of this seriously.

He comes awake at once to the feeling something's... off.  _Different_.

The TV still plays, quiet murmurs on the news about a recent spate in gruesome killings, rain still batters the windows, his drink is where he left it before closing his eyes on a too-long blink and Vincent -

Ah, Vincent.  There it is.  A pose too casual, too _comfortable_ in the secondhand chair to belong to his roommate.  Those long legs crossing at the ankle under his scrutiny, thrown over the arm of the chair in an easy sprawl.  Claws tap-tap-tapping on a knee as if following a heartbeat and his breathing - there's the oddity.  Too _slow_.

"He needs more air than that, you know," he says to the demon wearing Vincent's body and doesn't tremble when he meets that stare, red eyes gone amber, spies the sharp teeth lurking behind a faint smile.  The demon inclines its head in acknowledgement and takes a longer breath, and another, and another.  Exaggerated, deliberate, each exhale a forceful gust, _theatrics_ over plucking him from his seat and snapping his spine in two, sucking the marrow from his bones.  Almost... _friendly_ , if any of Vincent's bloody counterparts could be called such.

"Better?"

"Not really.  My roommate's possessed by a mishmash of parasites and one of them's decided to stop by for a chitchat."  Laughter, so unlike Vincent's rare chuckle, soft and amused and edged with just enough malice to curdle his stomach and raise goosebumps across his skin.  Here he is, a rabbit caught in its den, and there's the jaws of the fox waiting for the prime moment to chomp down on his neck.

"Many a name I've been given in my years on and beyond this mortal plane, yet parasite has never been one."

"Let me guess, _big bad wolf_ is?" He can almost picture Vincent in a fit of uncharacteristic panic in the corner, jumping up and down and yelling for him to run.  Or maybe that's his own self-preservation kicking in two minutes too... is that confusion on the demon's borrowed face?

"You reference... something."

"Uh.  Yeah?  Little Red Riding Hood?  _My what big teeth you have?_ "

"I do not know this reference," says the demon, distant, eyes taking on that faraway look Vincent's have so many times in the past.  Distraction, attention drawn inward, and he doesn't need to imagine the gunner in the corner to know an escape when it's presented to him on a silver platter, bolts for the kitchen and the many sharp utensils stashed away in its drawers, the back door and its solitary lock.

Freedom only a dash away, his safety a measurement in how fast he can sprint, how long, can he outrun this creature?  He nearly takes the door with him instead when he's yanked backward and pitched across the table without warning, hissing a protest when claws prick his skin, then no sound at all when they settle around his throat and he's weak as a kitten compared to the demon looming over him.

" _All the better to eat you with, my dear,"_ it purrs, eyes bright with hunger and - Cloud's never gone quietly to death's doorstep.  Why start now?

"If it's dinner you're after," he says, miraculously, the hold on his throat warning rather than real threat, "there's some leftover stew I can heat up."

"And if I want to eat _you_ , mortal?"

"Then I'd tell you where we keep the wasabi and hope it burns you on the way down because I sure as shit can't."

"But you would be such a treat on your own.  Like a lollipop.  To be _licked_ and savoured," and - he pauses after his knee jerks up, about to thrash around like a hooked fish, eyes going wide and brain short circuiting.  What's he supposed to say or _do_ in response to - that?

"What."  Yep, that works.

A sharp-toothed grin, all fiendish delight, and the demon relinquishes its hold on his throat to pat his cheek instead.  _What in the fuck?_   He's... not dinner, then?  Dessert?  _Alive_?

"You're a tasty snack, mortal.  One to be savoured now and devoured later," a single claw marked by his blood, lifted to a mouth that's Vincent's and fangs that aren't, tongue darting out to sample it (him?).  The demon hums, a sound he doesn't know what to make of, but since it isn't making any move to disembowel him and munch on his intestines - he sits up, scoots his ass up along the table and distantly wonders if he smashes it over the demon's head and runs it through with one of the legs - will he actually kill it?  Or harm Vincent in the process of pissing it off?

"Who _are_ you, anyway?  Which demon are you?"

"Chaos.  And you are Cloud Strife.  A _pleasure_ to make your acquaintance," amber flickers, gives way to red, and with a wave that has no goddamn business being cheerful, the demon takes its leave.  Vincent's body crumples to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, and Cloud pinches his own arm to see if he's dreaming.

The flash of pain says he isn't, but then his sanity could have randomly jumped out a window, too, so.  That was a valid option.

"What the fuck just happened?"  A snore from Vincent is his only answer.


End file.
